


Protraction

by apparitionism



Series: Interpersonal [2]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Psychology Study, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-16 15:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7273177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apparitionism/pseuds/apparitionism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As promised, here is the sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7060054/chapters/16049752">Disclosure</a>, in which someone named Myka and someone named Helena sat in a cubicle on a college campus in Denver and participated in a psychology experiment that involved answering questions designed to generate interpersonal closeness—and in a shocking development (for a B&W AU), it worked! Interpersonal closeness was generated! In this continuation, the now-close Myka and Helena answer the study’s control-group questions, which were designed to elicit small talk. You’ll have to be the judge of how small or large that talk turns out to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

On a Sunday morning in late March, an Airbus A319 takes off from the Denver airport. Two women are sitting next to each other in row 8 of that airplane: the taller of the two occupies 8C, the aisle seat, while the shorter is in 8B, the middle. A young girl, perhaps ten years old, sits by the window. The plane is on its way to Orange County. These three passengers’ ultimate destination is Disneyland, but their visit to the happiest place on earth seems not to be uppermost in their minds: the girl’s eyes are closed and headphones cover her ears, and the two adults are focused on an iPad, engaged in an argument over who will hold it. Eventually, the taller one seems to emerge victorious.

**SET I**

_When was the last time you walked for more than an hour? Describe where you went and what you saw._  
MB: I hate walking.  
HW: I am aware of that, thank you. Every time I try to convince you to take a romantic walk with me, you try to talk me into going running instead. Outdoor exercise! Nauseating. Exercise should be undertaken only at designated times, in a gym.  
MB: Running outdoors is invigorating. Walking outdoors is a waste of time.  
HW: I’m so glad you think romance is a waste of time.  
MB: I’m pretty sure you know that isn’t what I think. Just because our Venn diagrams of activities that count as romantic don’t completely overlap…  
HW: What about invigorating activities? Many people hike and find that quite invigorating.  
MB: I’m not one of them.  
HW: Well, I’m not either. Answer the question.  
MB: I have no idea when I last walked for an hour. I think Pete and I might have a couple weeks ago, when we were investigating the complaints against that student, the one who was stalking her professor. We went to dorm rooms. To a couple of apartments. As for what we saw, we… saw the people who lived in them. Come on, this is boring. Couldn’t we just read instead?  
HW: No. You promised you’d do the small-talk questions with me; Claudia for some reason wants to know how different the experience is.  
MB: She’s just messing with you. Of course it’s going to be different—we aren’t strangers anymore! Don’t you figure it would be different even if we redid the other questions?  
HW: Still, we have a two-hour flight to get through.  
MB: I know. And I could get through it by reading.  
HW: I myself walked for more than an hour with Claudia just last week.  
MB: God, why?  
HW: She needed to clear her head. And calm down.  
MB: I’ll repeat: god, why?  
HW: One of the reviewers of her paper made comments that were less than generous.  
MB: And for the trifecta: god, why?  
HW: I’ve no idea. Her work is excellent, and well-expressed besides. My belief is that he resented her eloquence—those who are plodding do consider agility a flaw.  
MB: So even you didn’t voluntarily walk for an hour. You had to be forced into it by Professor Plodding.  
HW: Oh all right. Would you consider joining me at some point for a romantic half-hour walk?  
MB: Cap it at twenty minutes and you have a deal.  
HW: All right. Done.  
MB: Excellent. Anyway, I bet we’ll get it out of the way in our first twenty minutes at Disney.

_What was the best gift you ever received and why?_  
MB: These are just traps. That’s all they are: traps. I totally see why it’s better for people who’ve never met before to answer them.  
HW: The best gift I ever received was… the goldfish Charles gave me on my seventh birthday.  
MB: And the difference between you and me is that for you I guess they aren’t traps. Don’t you think you should have said something like “of course the best gift I ever received was you, Myka”? Just to be polite?  
HW: You weren’t given to me as a gift. Charles actually went out and bought a fish, a bowl, blue rocks, and a plastic palm tree, with his own money. He forgot to buy food, but that was easily remedied.  
MB: So Charles gave you a goldfish that could have died of starvation, and that’s your best gift? What about what I got you for Christmas?  
HW: You gave me a yellow coat.  
MB: To match your hat!  
HW: Yes. The one that makes Christina laugh uncontrollably. And now she laughs uncontrollably at my coat as well.  
MB: I can’t help it if she has bad taste in outerwear. Besides, I was mostly thinking about safety: you’ll never be hit by a car while you’re wearing that coat. You shine like a beacon.  
HW: A mortified beacon. Yes. That _is_ better than a goldfish.  
MB: A starving goldfish. And I was going to say that you’re the best gift I ever received, but now I’ve decided to go with one time when Pete forgot my birthday and gave me a half-empty box of Tic Tacs he found in the glove compartment of our cruiser. Plus they were that disgusting orange flavor, and not even sugar-free.  
HW: You think you’re going to upset me, but I remain unperturbed.  
MB: I’m glad somebody is.

_If you had to move from Colorado where would you go, and what would you miss the most about Colorado?_  
HW: Possibly I would go back to England, if I could find a position there. Or I’d go anywhere I could find a position, really; academics can’t be overly particular. And I don’t know what I’d miss about Colorado. Certainly not the weather… possibly the public schools.  
MB: Now you really _are_ trying to tick me off.  
HW: I am? What have I said this time?  
MB: You’d miss the public schools more than you’d miss me?  
HW: I assumed you would come with me. If I _had to_ move from Colorado. Are you saying you’d refuse to move with me? With us?  
MB: Oh. I… okay, you got me. In my defense, I technically moved in with you only two months ago, and I still have my lease.  
HW: So Christina and I would leave, and you’d move back into your apartment and…  
MB: And miss you more than words could ever say. But no, you’re right. If I had to move from Colorado, I’d go wherever you were going. And as for what I’d miss, that would be your getting suited up in your yellow winter gear, if we moved somewhere warmer.  
HW: You see? That wasn’t so difficult.  
MB: Just don’t be surprised when you get Tic Tacs as an anniversary present.

_How did you celebrate last Halloween?_  
HW: As I certainly hope you recall, after we dropped Christina off at her Halloween party, we decided to go to your apartment and… how can I put this delicately… eschew costumes. Or I suppose one could say we were costumed as—  
MB: Next question!

_Do you read a newspaper often and which do you prefer? Why?_  
MB: Denver Post. I don’t know if I really prefer it, but it’s always lying around somewhere in the office.  
HW: The New York Times. Purely out of habit.  
MB: You can’t kid me. It’s because of the crossword and how superior you feel once you’ve done the Saturday one.  
HW: Oh, as if you don’t feel superior when you manage to get your hands on it and finish it first? But all right. Fine. Out of sheer egotism, I prefer to read the New York Times.  
MB: Man, if you’re being honest about that, you must have really meant it about the goldfish.  
HW: Which one of us is reputedly the one who can’t let things go? You’ll have to refresh my memory.

_What is a good number of people to have in a student household and why?_  
HW: And here we see that the original experimental design was for undergraduates.  
MB: So are we answering for students or just people?  
HW: People, I think.  
MB: I get the feeling my answer had better be three. As had yours, by the way.  
HW: Rest assured, it is.  
C: My answer’s one. Just me. Or no, one and a half: I’m getting a cat.  
HW: How can you possibly hear us over whatever earsplitting music is making its way through your headphones? And a _cat_? When did you decide you needed a cat?  
C: I like cats. Just because you and Myka are weird and don’t like pets doesn’t mean everybody has to be like that.  
MB: You should get a goldfish. In this purported future when you’re living by yourself. When’s that starting, by the way? When we get home from this little Disney adventure?  
C: I wish. I’m counting the days till college. And I don’t want a fish; all they do is open and close their mouths.  
MB: I’ve watched both you and your mom open and close your mouths. Maybe that shouldn’t be the factor that determines which creatures you’re willing to live with.  
HW: I for one cannot believe that our household is so awful that you feel the need to count the days until you leave it.  
MB: Honestly, Mom, you’re kind of smothery.  
HW: I am not!  
C: It’s a little better with Myka around.  
MB: Thanks. I should get that on a business card. Myka Bering: your first line of defense against smothering.  
C: But I still want to be on my own.  
HW: But a cat.  
C: _I like cats_. You don’t have to. I’m turning my music back up now.

_If you could invent a new flavor of ice cream, what would it be?_  
HW: And _here_ we see that the original experiment was designed some time ago. Because is there an approach to ice cream that hasn’t been tried? I think I remember reading something about sriracha and cucumber not long ago.  
MB: I don’t like ice cream.  
HW: It’s true that I’ve never seen you eat it. Why don’t you like it?  
MB: If people ask, I always say it’s the sugar, but actually I dropped an ice cream cone once and kind of got yelled at. The experience stuck with me.  
HW: How old were you?  
MB: Fourteen.  
HW: _Fourteen?_  
MB: Yeah… I know. I should’ve had a thicker skin by then.  
HW: That is not what I was going to say.  
MB: No, I really should have. It was all part of that “too serious for my own good” thing, but there I was, reacting like a five-year-old, staring down at my ice cream on the sidewalk with my lip trembling, seeing it as a symbol for everything being drastically wrong.  
HW: Would you mind if I made some attempt to change that association?  
MB: What, by letting me drop some and then not yelling at me?  
HW: In a sense.  
MB: Um. You have that look on your face.  
HW: You have that look on your face, too.  
MB: What look?  
HW: The one that involves blushing.

_What is the best restaurant you’ve been to in the last month that your partner hasn’t been to? Tell your partner about it._  
MB: Hey, given how often Pete makes me go to new places for lunch, I might actually win this one!  
HW: This is not about winning or losing.  
MB: Are you sure?  
HW: Perhaps later. All right, what is the best restaurant Pete has made you go to in the last month? That I haven’t been to?  
MB: I don’t think you’ve been to Mercantile. In Union Station. They make their croissants fresh every day… need I say more?  
HW: Pete and croissants are one of my favorite combinations, as you know.  
MB: He ate only two. And not even at the same time.  
HW: How disappointing.  
MB: Not really. They were ham and cheese; it would have been a huge mess. Besides, he doesn’t need to win any more bets, as far as I’m concerned.  
HW: No, he doesn’t. But you must admit, it can be entertaining when he tries.  
MB: Entertaining, disturbing… potayto, potahto.  
HW: Speaking of potatoes, Claudia took me to Work  & Class last week. She wanted to go for happy hour, during which she ate a great many green chile cheese fries and forced me to order something called a “big pig in a blanket.”  
MB: Psh. I’ve been to Work & Class. Pete once had three orders of their chickpea croquettes. Three _large_ orders, and he wouldn’t even let me try them.  
HW: You and I should go, and you can try the croquettes. I don’t recommend the blanketed pig, however.

_Describe the last pet you owned._  
MB: My last pet was my only pet, and he looked, as I’ve mentioned, like a malamute. On account of being a malamute.  
HW: My last pet was my only pet as well: my goldfish. Who was more orange than gold, and rather small, but with an extremely lacy, dramatic tail fin.  
MB: And the goldfish’s name was…?  
HW: Mister.  
MB: Mister Goldfish?  
HW: No, just Mister.  
MB: I don’t get it.  
HW: You don’t need to.

_What is your favorite holiday? Why?_  
MB: I used to say I liked Arbor Day. I thought it sounded more interesting than something like Christmas.  
HW: But what is your actual favorite?  
MB: Christmas. I’d’ve thought you could tell.  
HW: You complained through the _entire_ Christmas season. Except when you were sleeping, and even then I’m fairly certain you mumbled something about inappropriate commercialization.  
MB: I was dreaming about being chased by a dollar sign wearing a Santa suit. Probably.  
HW: So you see why I am dubious about your answer.  
MB: I like _real_ Christmas.  
HW: You did look like a delighted toddler when the snow started on Christmas Eve.  
MB: See. I told you.  
HW: I might have to say I prefer Christmas now too. Just because of how widely you smiled.  
MB: But really?  
HW: But really? Well, this past year… Halloween. Because of the lack of costumes.  
MB: Did you forget that Christina can hear you over the music?  
C: It’s okay, Myka. We’ve had The Talk. I didn’t like it, but we had it.  
MB: Is there some holiday when nobody says any words? That’s my new favorite.

_Tell your partner the funniest thing that has ever happened to you when you were with a small child._  
HW: I suppose my funniest story concerns the time that Christina—  
C: Mom, don’t.  
HW: You don’t know what I’m going to say.  
C: I don’t have to. Whatever it is, just don’t. For me?  
HW: Oh, all right. For you, my darling daughter whom I smother, I’ll humiliate a different child. Let’s see… oh, I know. Do you remember the year Charles visited for your birthday, darling? Were you turning five?  
C: Four.  
HW: We had a party, and one of Christina’s little friends suggested that Charles and I must be husband and wife.  
MB: Seriously? Why?  
HW: I believe it was because we speak alike: clearly, the people who talked similarly strangely had to constitute a matched pair. In any case, I explained that he was my brother, from England, and she blithely ran to her mother and told her, very loudly, that in England, brothers and sisters marry each other.  
MB: Well, you guys are pretty weird over there…  
HW: After the initial shock faded, I think even Charles laughed. But there _was_ that initial shock.  
MB: Actually, shock features in mine too: Pete almost stole a kid from her mom.  
HW: That seems like something of a shock for everyone involved.  
MB: I think the kid just wanted a ride in a police car, but she totally had him convinced that her mother wasn’t anywhere around and we’d have to drive around and look for her.  
HW: And what was the funny part?  
MB: Pete’s shocked face when her mother raced across the park and called him a kidnapper. In second place: the kid’s disappointed face when she realized she wasn’t going to get her ride-along.  
HW: I assume everything was sorted out in the end?  
MB: The mom eventually calmed down. I think the fact that we were actually wearing uniforms—and did have the keys to the police car—helped us make our case. Actually, the funniest part is that Pete asked her out, and she said yes.  
HW: I’m glad you didn’t ask her out.  
MB: Why not? This was years ago.  
HW: What if she hadn’t been a mistake?  
MB: Anybody who wasn’t you would have been a mistake.  
HW: Now you’re the one looking at me that way.  
MB: I know. And now you’re the one blushing.  
HW: I am not. I don’t blush.  
MB: You’d better explain that to your capillaries.

_What gifts did you receive on your last birthday?_  
MB: I wish I could say somebody gave me a goldfish.  
HW: You do not wish that.  
MB: No, it’s true, I don’t. Let’s see, what did _you_ get me… oh, that’s right: nothing.  
HW: Because I _did not know_ it was your birthday. Because you _did not tell me_ it was your birthday.  
MB: You couldn’t sneak a look at my driver’s license like a normal girlfriend?  
HW: You claim to like your privacy. It’s taken me some time to learn just how many of your claims are false.  
MB: They’re not false. They’re situational.  
HW: On _my_ last birthday, _I_ received a lovely box of stationery from Christina. And yet now that I think of it, all the cards feature artwork… artwork that in turn features cats. Were you trying to tell me something, darling?  
C: Mom. I’m listening to Star Talk Radio now. It’s not like the music; I have to concentrate. Please.  
HW: Well, you did say please. I’ll accept that.  
MB: At least she was reasonably subtle in her birthday messaging. Pete handed me a Rockies ticket and said “Happy birthday, we’re going next Saturday.”  
HW: Even if I had known it was your birthday, I wouldn’t have given you a ticket to a Rockies game—because I do know that you dislike baseball.  
MB: Yeah. Pete knows that too. He just didn’t want to go by himself.  
HW: So perhaps my sadly uninformed approach was better after all.  
MB: Well…  
HW: You asked “did you put extra effort into that just because it’s my birthday” after a certain… occurrence. Which is of course how I found out.  
MB: Okay. God, if you could someday learn to keep your voice down. But yes. True. I have to admit, I enjoyed that a lot more than the baseball game.  
HW: I should hope so.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still goofing around, letting this Myka and this Helena answer the next set of small-talk questions… in other news (the reason for which will become readily apparent as you read the first question here in set II), I think everyone needs to take a peek at this live [Myka Cam](http://www.cmzoo.org/index.php/animals-plants/giraffe-cam/)... and why yes, it is in Colorado Springs. I bet a certain time-traveling Victorian, and/or various AU incarnations of same, keeps a tab open to that page when Myka goes home to visit her family…

**SET II**

_Describe the last time you went to the zoo._  
MB: I haven’t been in decades. I haven’t ever been to the Denver one, but we used to go all the time in Colorado Springs.  
HW: I expected you to be more of a “the animals seem sad” sort of person.  
MB: They were always pretty good about the enclosures, the way I remember it. And really focused on conservation, which I was very into, even as a kid.  
HW: Christina and I went to the Denver Zoo soon after we moved here. They have a photo safari that was quite the thing. Of course she was barely nine then, and far less jaded… it was in fact quite sweet. She took a picture of a particular sort of leopard—that’s the one that hangs on her wall.  
C: Clouded leopard. Most big cats can’t purr, but clouded leopards can.  
HW: So could you, at one time, darling. Now you’re far less content.  
MB: Things I didn’t know. About Christina or the leopard. Or that leopard photo, for that matter. Christina, you never told me you took that.  
C: You never asked.  
MB: I don’t like to pry.  
HW: That is simply untrue.  
MB: I think you’re mistaking me for you.  
HW: I respected your privacy to such an extent that I had no idea when your birthday was!  
MB: One thing. One empirical thing. You are constantly in my business about everything else.  
HW: Oh, name one thing.  
MB: What I’m wearing to work tomorrow.  
HW: You aren’t going to work tomorrow.  
MB: You don’t understand the concept of _examples_.  
HW: _You_ don’t understand the concept of accessorizing.  
MB: _You_ don’t understand that there is no place for jewelry in law enforcement!  
HW: _You_ don’t understand that you are not in fact a police officer!  
C: Neither one of you understands that we’re in a public place.  
MB: Ha. Like a zoo, which is how this all started.

 _Tell the names and ages of your family members, include grandparents, aunts, and uncles, and where they were born (to the extent that you know this information)._  
MB: You know all this already… actually, no, I take it back. I’ve _told you_ all this already, and every time I do, you forget.  
HW: I do not forget.  
MB: Where do my Uncle Daniel and Aunt Carol live?  
HW: In Montana.  
MB: All my aunts and uncles live in Montana. And it was a trick question: Uncle Daniel isn’t married. He’s the confirmed bachelor. Aunt Carol is Uncle Richard’s wife.  
HW: And yet they all live in Montana, so I was correct.  
MB: And yet you have no idea who anyone is.  
HW: If I had said “but Daniel and Carol aren’t married!”, how was I to know you wouldn’t have responded with “It’s a trick question; they both live in Montana”?  
MB: Well, that’s just… okay. Yes. I probably would have said that.  
HW: Just because I can’t keep your extensive family tree sorted in my head—and by the way, I do know that the extensiveness is all on your mother’s side.  
MB: Montana extensiveness. But look, it isn’t my fault that you don’t _have_ a family tree. Or rather, that you and Charles are the most extensive extent that your family tree’s had in a long time. Both sets of your grandparents must have been bowled over when you were born. “A second child! How extraordinary!”  
HW: First, please don’t copy my voice. You’re worse than Claudia, and that is saying a great deal. But second—  
MB: I’m better than Pete.  
HW: When does Pete copy my voice?  
MB: You don’t want to know. Anyway, you were saying?  
HW: I have no idea what I was saying.  
MB: Excellent. I win another one.  
HW: It is not a competition!  
MB: And yet I keep winning.

 _One of you say a word, the next say a word that starts with the last letter of the word just said. Do this until you have said 50 words. Any words will do—you aren’t making a sentence._  
MB: God.  
HW: Darkness.  
MB: Really.  
HW: That doesn’t start with S.  
MB: No, I mean, _really?_ I say “god” and the word you think of is “darkness”? And I didn’t even _say_ god, by the way. I just _said_ it.  
HW: It disturbs me that I know what you mean by that. Now, a word starting with S, please.  
MB: Stop.  
HW: Playing.  
MB: Games.  
HW: Sesquipedalian.  
MB: No.  
HW: Onomatopoeia.  
MB: Ant.  
HW: Toccata.  
MB: And.  
HW: Fugue.  
MB: Gotcha!  
HW: You did. Now I’ve lost count.  
MB: We were on eleven before I tricked you into the Bach hiccup.  
HW: Yes, you’d cleverly said “and.” All right. Dalmatian.  
MB: Nap.  
HW: Please.  
MB: Egg.  
HW: Gastrointestinal.  
MB: Law.  
HW: Why.  
MB: You.  
HW: No, I mean: why will you not truly participate? You love words.  
MB: It’s a weak attempt at protest. Three-letter protest.  
HW: Protest has seven letters. And two letters would be a greater challenge.  
MB: Okay, you asked for it: yo.  
HW: Omphalos.  
MB: So.  
HW: Oh.  
MB: Ha.  
HW: At.  
MB: To.  
HW: Or.  
MB: Rx.  
HW: That’s an abbreviation, not a word.  
MB: It actually is a word—I got Scrabble-challenged about it once, and it’s in the dictionary. But fine. Um… okay, this time you win: recant.  
HW: Thank you.  
MB: That isn’t a word; it’s a phrase.  
HW: _Thanks_.  
MB: Sure.  
HW: Exaltation!  
MB: Nephelolater.  
HW: Rhapsode.  
MB: Ecdysiast.  
HW: Temptress.  
MB: Sybaritic.  
HW: Concupiscent.  
MB: Tease.  
HW: Embarrassed?  
MB: Disconcerted.  
HW: Delightful.  
MB: Lobster.  
HW: Reproach.  
MB: Hardship.  
HW: Penalty.  
MB: Yellow.  
HW: Wamblating.  
MB: What?  
HW: I may have invented that one. To wamble is to feel nausea. I was trying to say “nauseating” with a word beginning with W.  
MB: On the basis of sheer creativity, I’ll allow it. Still: grandiloquent.  
HW: Thyself.  
MB: Fifty! Also, finally! And finished!  
HW: I did set that up for you. What would you have done if my word hadn’t ended in F?  
MB: Wouldn’t you like to know.

 _Do you like to get up early or stay up late? Is there anything funny that has resulted from this?_  
MB: Yeah, okay. Go ahead, answer for me. You know you want to.  
HW: You like to get up early.  
MB: And the funny thing. Go ahead.  
HW: The first time you got up early at my house, you did not remember that you were in my house.  
MB: And…  
HW: And you knocked over my full-length mirror. In the dark, at not quite five in the morning.  
MB: And…  
HW: And made so much noise that Christina called 911.  
MB: And….  
HW: And we did not know she had done so until the police responded, and you tried to hide from the officers because you knew them. You were unsuccessful, and I believe they were in fact the first to find the situation funny. Oh, how they laughed.  
MB: That just about covers it, don’t you think?  
HW: You forgot one “and.”  
MB: What’s that?  
HW: And I showed laudable restraint in not putting an end to our relationship right then and there.  
MB: I’m honestly not sure “restraint” is what I’d say you showed at any point in the adventure.  
HW: You woke me up before dawn. _That_ was the point at which I should have ended the relationship, never mind the police.  
MB: If you had your way, you wouldn’t go to bed _till_ dawn.  
HW: That’s true. But it hasn’t led to anything nearly as funny.  
MB: I don’t know. You can be funny when you’re tired. Or maybe I don’t mean _funny_ so much as _extremely dopey_.  
HW: I’d ask for an example, but—  
MB: I’m so very glad you almost asked, because now I can pretend that you did ask. Think back to the time when you worked on whatever paper that was till two a.m., then decided you needed a break. And a snack.  
HW: It is completely reasonable to need a break and something to eat after working for several hours.  
MB: Sure. But it’s a little less reasonable when you forget that it’s the middle of the night and start making breakfast for all of us. And then wake me and Christina up at two thirty to eat pancakes and bacon.  
HW: In my defense, I thought the clock said seven thirty.  
MB: It was pitch black outside.  
HW: I thought that was when you _liked_ to get up.  
MB: Not _funny_ so much as _extremely dopey_. Christina, back me up.  
C: Right. This is me, backing you up.  
MB: Hey, why didn’t you call 911 that time?  
C: I didn’t think anybody was likely to break in and cook us bacon.

 _Where are you from? Name all the places you’ve lived._  
HW: London, Oxford, Marseille, Florence—though I didn’t really live there; it was a long hotel stay. Then London again, and Chicago, and finally Denver. Not particularly extensive or exciting as lists go.  
MB: I can beat you handily for lack of excitement, plus low numbers, no problem: Colorado Springs. Boulder. Washington, D.C. Denver. And done. All in one country—one state, really, plus one district. Sorry to be so dull.  
HW: _You_ are not the list of places you’ve lived. I don’t believe I’ve ever suggested that I find you uninteresting, have I?  
MB: I’m glad you added Denver to your list, anyway.  
HW: So am I.

 _What is your favorite class at CU so far? Why?_  
MB: This really was designed for undergrads, wasn’t it? Didn’t you guys substitute something for these, with the adult volunteers?  
HW: I believe Claudia did. I don’t know why I don’t have the updated version here…. I suppose you could answer with your favorite class overall at university.  
MB: That’s easy: I took the best Shakespeare class ever. All about historical context, and what the differences are between then and now, and what the differences aren’t, and how production conventions for the plays changed over time… what was valued in performance… god, I loved it.  
HW: Tell me again why you aren’t a professor of literature.  
MB: Persuasive government recruiter. Speaking of performance… now that I think about it, I bet they send them to acting classes. Plus, I had some noble ideas about protecting and serving.  
HW: You could certainly serve by being a professor of literature. We could say you were protecting your students from the scourge of ignorance.  
MB: No, that’s _your_ job. And I think you should have to tell your favorite class that you’ve _taught_ at CU so far.  
HW: Just as easy to identify as your Shakespeare: a graduate seminar on survey research design, in my first semester. Claudia was in that seminar, and in so many arenas, what would I have done without her? Primarily, of course, I’d still be watching you stalk your way through the parking garage.  
MB: I don’t stalk.  
HW: Yes you do. You look terribly severe, and you walk as if anyone in your path will be scythed.  
MB: Scythed? Grim Reaper–style? I can’t be that threatening.  
HW: Oh, but you can. That was yet another reason for me not to talk to you.  
MB: You’re ridiculous. And for the record, you don’t look unthreatening yourself.  
HW: That isn’t the story you usually tell. More often I get some version of _you are extremely dopey_.  
MB: That’s when you’re tired. When you’re wide awake—scythes.  
HW: I don’t think anyone wields multiple scythes.  
MB: I don’t think you’ve ever seen yourself walking with purpose.

 _What did you do this summer?_  
MB: Undergraduates again. I went to work and then went home every day.  
HW: As did I. But I also spent an increasing amount of time with you.  
MB: You also kept dreaming up new ways to embarrass Christina beyond measure.  
C: She worked really hard at that.  
MB: Ha.  
C: You sort of worked hard at it too, Myka. And you weren’t even living with us yet.  
MB: As if I could ever embarrass you as much as your mom does. To dream the impossible dream.  
C: Please don’t try harder.  
MB: I actually think I’m at a pretty comfortable level now.  
C: Comfortable for _you_.  
MB: Well, right. _Your_ comfort isn’t the goal. But you might bear in mind that reduction in smothering we talked about earlier.  
HW: Do I even need to be here for this?  
MB: Of course you do. Without you around to do the original smothering, she wouldn’t appreciate me at all. Besides, this summer? I spent an increasing amount of time with you, too. And found that I really really liked it.  
HW: That sounded quite sincere.  
MB: It is sincere.  
C: Congratulations, it worked. I’m embarrassed.

 _What gifts did you receive last Christmas/Hanukkah?_  
HW: A blindingly yellow coat.  
MB: An invitation to move in with you.  
HW: I put more thought into my gift to you.  
MB: You did not! Do you have any idea how long it took me to find that coat? Plus I didn’t know what size would fit you, so I bought three different sizes.  
HW: You did?  
MB: Why do I always end up saying more in response to these questions than I want to? Yes, I did. And then I surreptitiously tried on your blue coat, which I know fits you and doesn’t fit me, so I could put the yellow coats on and see which one failed to fit me in the same way.  
HW: You could have done that first and then tried the yellow coats on in the store.  
MB: That thought did not cross my mind.  
HW: Which makes the gift that much more special, I will say.  
MB: I don’t want to give you the impression that I didn’t appreciate your gift to me, though.  
HW: Given how quickly you accepted the invitation, I had assumed that you did.  
MB: Given that it was an actual printed invitation—one signed by both of you— _and_ that you both were sitting right in front of me when I opened it, I thought it would be rude not to RSVP promptly.  
HW: We would have given you time to think about it.  
MB: I didn’t need time to think about it.  
HW: You can be very romantic when you’re of a mind to be.  
MB: We’re not on a walk, though.  
HW: Clearly our Venn diagram of romance exhibits an overlap with regard to plane travel.

 _Who is your favorite actor of your own gender? Describe a favorite scene in which this person has acted._  
MB: I don’t have a favorite.  
HW: Of course you do.  
MB: Don’t tell me what I have and don’t have.  
HW: I am not telling you anything. I am attempting to elicit your opinion. Whose films would you choose to see?  
MB: Cate Blanchett.  
HW: There you are. And what about her is so appealing to you?  
MB: She seems really good at her job. You know, acting. Also, she’s very good-looking. Hot in a cool way. Like she knows that you know that she’s hot, but she doesn’t really—  
HW: You can stop now.  
MB: You practically forced me to answer the question; don’t get upset because I did.  
HW: Fine. I enjoy Hayley Atwell. I don’t know that she’s my favorite, but given that I’ve committed to watching _Agent Carter_ with Christina… she has a charming persona, and in addition to that, she has lovely hair. Rather like yours, in fact, when you straighten yours a bit.  
MB: What? I know I don’t watch that show with you two, but I don’t think my hair is anything like hers.  
HW: I suppose I’d have to touch hers to truly make such a comparison.  
MB: Don’t you go putting your hands in some other woman’s hair.  
HW: Why not? Would you be jealous? I myself am not at all jealous of what you might or might not be thinking about Cate Blanchett and her putatively cool hotness.  
MB: I like you better suggestive than coy.  
HW: All right. I like you better naked than clothed.  
MB: Good god. That isn’t suggestive; that’s just—what am I supposed to think when you say things like that?  
HW: I don’t care, as long you aren’t thinking about Cate Blanchett.

 _What was your impression of CU the first time you ever came here?_  
MB: The first time I ever came here? Or rather, went there. Because here is… where are we at this point? Somewhere over Utah?  
HW: My first impression was that it was far more urban than I expected.  
MB: It’s _Denver_.  
HW: I realize that now. But previously, I thought of Colorado, as a whole, as…  
MB: The Wild West?  
HW: Something like that.  
MB: To me, when I was a kid, Denver was _the big city_. Colorado Springs wasn’t tiny, but Denver was bigger, and when we’d go it seemed so much more exciting than home… I guess my impression of the school was, oh, it’s in the big city. As opposed to Boulder, where the students are basically a third of the place. It was fine to be one of those students for four years, but I’d rather live here.  
HW: Here, somewhere over Utah?  
MB: It’s not so bad here, really, as long as you’ll promise to quit thinking about putting your hands in Hayley Atwell’s hair.

 _What is the best TV show you’ve seen in the last month that your partner hasn’t seen? Tell your partner about it._  
HW: The best TV show I’ve seen in the last month that you haven’t seen is _Say Yes to the Dress_. You haven’t seen it because you refuse to watch it, and now that comes back to bite you, because I get to torture you by telling you about it!  
MB: Stop! You know how much I hate that, and it isn’t fair, because there isn’t anything I watch that you hate!  
HW: You said you’d do this! These are the questions!  
MB: Why can’t we just skip this one?  
HW: Because I said so.  
MB: You are tyrannical.  
HW: I love you.  
MB: And also manipulative. Besides, before I met you I hardly watched any TV at all! And now I know who both Rizzoli _and_ Isles are!  
HW: You said you enjoyed that program!  
MB: I did not say that! That’s what you wanted to hear me saying. What I actually said was that whatever enjoyment I might have had was negated by the fact it doesn’t have _thing one_ to do with law enforcement.  
HW: How is that possibly a valid complaint?  
MB: It’s set in a police department. Unless I’m mistaken.  
HW: You _are_ mistaken. It’s set in a facsimile of a police department.  
MB: I don’t even know why I talk to you.  
HW: In this case, because you said you would. Now, _Say Yes to the Dress_ is a delightfully revealing succession of social experiments that shed light upon the ways in which we differentiate between, and in some cases combine, rational and irrational decision-making. Also the management of expectations.  
MB: And away we go.

 _What is your favorite holiday? Why?_  
MB: Why’d the question repeat?  
HW: I actually don’t know. Answer anyway. Perhaps you’ve changed your mind.  
MB: Okay, tyrant, I have. Bastille Day. Because now that I think about it, it sounds smarter than Arbor Day. How about you?  
HW: Still Halloween. Because now it will always make you blush.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original Tumblr tags: I have spent far too long staring at that live cam, please note that ad space can be purchased on the page, and I am sorely tempted to buy a slide and have it say, 'you are watching Myka-vision', or something that would be equally incomprehensible to common-or-garden giraffe enthusiasts


	3. Chapter 3

**SET III**

_Where did you go to high school? What was your high school like?_  
MB: Colorado Springs. Like a mental institution.  
HW: Surely not.  
MB: Really? You’re not going to believe me? It was high school. I had some good teachers, and I had a few friends, but it was _high school_. I was a _teenager_.   
HW: You speak as if I never was a teenager.  
MB: You weren’t one like I was. I tell you and tell you about the too-serious thing, but you don’t remember that either.  
HW: Of course I remember it.  
MB: Too serious, too tall, too sensitive… plus my glasses were too thick.  
HW: No contact lenses?  
MB: Too expensive.  
HW: Everything, apparently, was too.  
MB: It was. I worked too much in the bookstore, studied too hard in school…  
HW: But I don’t understand that either. School was no trouble at all for me; I had to expend so little effort. Surely it was easy for you as well? Given your memory in particular.  
MB: You’d think it would be, right? Because yeah, I had all the facts. All the facts, right in my head. But everyone’s always surprised by how that gets in the way of thinking. It took me the longest time to learn that just spewing facts wasn’t any way to put anything together. Not to mention, even when I finally got that, it turns out it’s harder to think for yourself when everyone else’s words are right there in your head. You get very confused—or I got very confused—about what was really mine.  
HW: I see. Too much going on in that beautiful mind.  
MB: It just… nothing seemed to make anything easier. Everything was harder because of everything else. I’m getting that it wasn’t that way for you.  
HW: No, and I’m sorry. I feel I can’t exercise any empathy at all, or that I have no right to try. I found everything so simple—and perhaps that was part of my problem. Schoolwork was simple, people were simple. I craved difficulty and complexity—  
MB: So you ran around and did stupid things.  
HW: Yes, I did. I made my own life difficult, and what a luxury that now seems.  
MB: Well, sure. Because now you’ve got the much more taxing job of making my life difficult.  
C: Don’t forget mine.  
MB: _And_ Christina’s. You’re practically overworked.  
HW: And underpaid. For those jobs in particular.  
MB: Really. Underpaid. It’s a good thing I’m not as suggestive as you are, because otherwise I’d have a word or two to say about compensation.

_What is the best book you’ve read in the last three months that your partner hasn’t read? Tell your partner about it._  
MB: Revenge is mine.  
HW: You read a book titled _Revenge Is Mine_?  
MB: No, revenge actually is mine, because to get you back for _Say Yes to the Dress_ , I’m going to tell you about a book you’ll hate.  
HW: A book you’ve read in the last three months that I haven’t read and that I’ll hate? That is a tall order.  
MB: Shows how much you know. This’ll be a piece of cake.  
HW: And yet you haven’t begun this supposedly vengeful description yet.  
MB: I’m thinking! Although that’s just since Christmas, isn’t it. It’s been a busy three months, what with the moving and… well, moving. It might turn out to be the case that in the last three months I haven’t read a book that you haven’t read.  
HW: Speaking of books, when will you finish writing yours and publish it?  
MB: I… wasn’t going to.  
HW: But why not? I haven’t read any of it in the last three months, but it’s very good.  
MB: Well, you said it. It isn’t finished. Plus you remember, I got everything about you wrong.  
HW: The hat is yellow.  
MB: Except that.  
HW: And I like to think I’m reasonably good-looking. Perhaps not as lovely as your yellow-hatted protagonist, but still.  
MB: I’m going to go with “lovelier but more of a pain than my protagonist.”  
HW: Nevertheless. You should finish it. The world needs more well-written books in which two women find a happy ending with each other.  
MB: How do you know they’ll have a happy ending? It isn’t finished.  
HW: If fate intervenes to keep them apart, I’m leaving you.  
MB: So if they don’t get a happy ending, I don’t get one either?  
HW: If that’s the way you want to interpret the situation. Life imitates art.  
MB: I’ll see what I can do. Next question?  
HW: Wait, wasn’t revenge meant to be yours?  
MB: I think I’m going to need another three months on this one.

_What foreign country would you most like to visit? What attracts you to this place?_  
HW: Is Egypt your first choice? You’ll need to make up your mind soon.  
MB: I will? Why?  
HW: I chose Disneyland. It should be your turn to choose next. I don’t know if we could manage that extensive, and expensive, an undertaking by, say, this summer, but we could certainly look into it.  
MB: I can’t tell what kind of influence you are. Is it good that I actually want to go places with you? Or are you distracting me?  
HW: Both.  
MB: I see. Well, where do you want to go?  
HW: I want to take you to England.  
MB: That’s not a foreign country. Not to you.  
HW: But I do want to take you there. You need to meet Charles and my father.  
MB: I’ve met them on Skype.  
HW: That is not the same thing.  
MB: Charles promised he’d come to Denver in not too long. And there’s that conference where you and your dad are meeting up… where is it, Boston? Maybe I could go with you.  
HW: You would do that?  
MB: Of course I’d do that. Wait, no, is this is one of those things where Pete would tell me I’m being too indulgent? I’m supposed to act like I don’t care. Or actively avoid it.   
C: You shouldn’t actively avoid Grandpa. He’s the best. So’s Uncle Charles.  
HW: And isn’t it amazing how I could be related to both of them and yet exhibit none of the qualities that lead to being called “the best.”  
C: No, Mom, you’re great. Really.  
HW: I truly did not think that “cynical world-weariness” would be your predominant color _quite_ so early in life.  
MB: Christina, where would you want to go? If we did plan something for summer?  
C: Me?  
MB: Yeah, you.   
C: I like your Egypt idea. I just don’t want to have to miss drama camp. Could we go when that isn’t?  
MB: I would never make you miss drama camp. On the other hand, I’m not sure you need all that much training in being dramatic.

_Do you prefer digital watches and clocks or the kind with hands? Why?_  
MB: Clocks with hands.  
HW: I don’t care. I don’t like clocks. Having to know what time it is.  
MB: So a casino must be your idea of heaven. We’ll have the flight attendants drop you out of the plane over Vegas. I bet we’re getting close.  
HW: I’d need a parachute, but I don’t—  
MB: That’s pretty fainthearted. Just close your eyes and jump, chicken. I’m sure the Bellagio will be happy to catch you.  
HW: I may not like clocks, but as I was about to say, I don’t enjoy gambling, either.  
MB: There is just no pleasing you, is there?  
HW: Now you _know_ that’s untrue.

_Describe your mother’s best friend._  
HW: A man of Indian descent whom she met at university. They both read economics, but he went on to become a journalist. He and my mother were the most comically mismatched pair, in particular physically, that you could imagine: my mother towered over him. And she could be so _grand_ , while he was mischievous and charming… I suppose he still is, though I haven’t seen him since the memorial service. He and my mother would play chess, always, and he taught both me and Charles to play, after Mother decided we were hopelessly inept. He also would bring toy vehicles to us when we were small. Excavators, cranes, dozers. I loved them; Charles didn’t much care.  
MB: Why’d he bring you heavy machinery?  
HW: I’ve no idea. Perhaps he thought some related field would be a good career choice for one or the other of us.  
MB: So why aren’t you out on some job site sitting in the cab of a backhoe, if you loved the toys so much?  
HW: Because fate decided otherwise.  
MB: You should go see him when we go to England, as we’re clearly going to do.  
HW: I should. And of course I’ll need to show you off.  
MB: Stop.  
HW: No, I mean it. He didn’t approve of my… former life, even at one point sitting me down to explain that despite my parents’ trust in me, he had concerns—which of course he was not wrong to have. He’ll be so pleased to see how well I’m settled now.  
MB: My mother’s best friend wouldn’t be pleased.   
HW: Why? Oh, but you’ve always been settled, haven’t you? Or serious, at least, if not settled.  
MB: No, not because of any lack of contrast between then and now. What I mean is, you’d get to see the conservatism of Colorado Springs in action.   
HW: I thought I’d already seen that. With your parents.  
MB: My parents have made great strides. I know they’re still not perfect, but if you met Mrs. Schaeffer, you’d understand just how great my parents’ strides have been.  
HW: And yet she and your mother remain friends?  
MB: They’ve known each other for… I think thirty years. Her husband died, and she had little kids and had to do something, so she started a business: a little candle shop down the street from the bookstore. I loved going in there; it smelled otherworldly. Anyway, she was a great businesswoman, very together, very savvy. I used to babysit her kids, who were around Tracy’s age, and she liked me because she could trust me; I wasn’t going to be throwing any wild parties or having my boyfriend come over. And I liked her. She talked to me like I was an adult… which makes it funny that I didn’t really _get_ the whole conservative-Christian thing. Like, it just never came up. Maybe it’s that we always sort of assume that people we like and respect are going to feel the same way we do… and then, you know, rude awakening. I overheard her and my mom talking about some other woman that belonged to the same women-in-business group they were in, about how she shouldn’t be allowed to own a business that kids would be going to. And Mom asked why, and Mrs. Schaeffer said “you know why” in this really ominous voice. It took me forever to work out what that meant.  
HW: But you did.  
MB: Yeah. She said something later about some celebrity, I think, and I got it.  
HW: And yet you don’t sound hostile.  
MB: She’s a really decent person who really doesn’t get it. And I’d say “oh, it’s a matter of exposure” and try to show her that I’m actually decent too and you’re stunning and Christina for all her world-weariness and drama is pretty stunning in her own right, but that would take time and fighting through it and I just don’t have the energy for that. Does that make me a bad person?  
HW: No. And even if it does, you just said Christina and I are stunning, so I wouldn’t be able to discern any badness, given the stars in my eyes.  
MB: You _are_ stunning.  
HW: Well, so are you. And anyone who fails to see how stunning we are together is just… unfortunate.  
MB: But I don’t want to suggest she was in any way mean to me. She was actually important.  
HW: As a role model.  
MB: Maybe not exactly that. I think she might have been the only person I wasn’t too serious for, if that makes any sense.  
HW: You wouldn’t have been too serious for me.  
MB: Of course I would have, you wild thing.  
HW: You could have settled me, even then.  
MB: I wouldn’t have tried.   
HW: Really?  
MB: I might have wanted to… but instead I would have watched you from afar and written a novel about you.  
HW: Would it have had a happy ending?  
MB: Maybe not by your standards. I wasn’t really thinking along the same lines back then.  
HW: Then I’m glad you’re writing it now. I’m glad you’re finishing it now.  
MB: I didn’t say I was.  
HW: And yet you are.  
MB: Am I? Why?  
HW: I love you.  
MB: Tyrant.

_What are the advantages and disadvantages of artificial Christmas trees?_  
MB: You put this one in on purpose.  
HW: I have not tampered with these questions in any way. Perhaps Claudia heard your screams of protest at Christmastime and wished to hear them again. From the skies above Utah.  
MB: California now, maybe.  
HW: The primary advantage of an artificial Christmas tree is that it need be bought only once. The primary disadvantage of an artificial Christmas tree is that the woman I love believes that an artificial Christmas tree signifies that Christmas itself is on the verge of complete eradication. She holds this belief so fervently that she eventually removed my artificial Christmas tree from my house and replaced it with a nonartificial Christmas tree.   
MB: A _real_ Christmas tree. I replaced it with a _real_ Christmas tree. It made your house smell great.  
HW: It filled my house with pine needles, and was a fire hazard to boot.  
MB: I just told you that Christmas is my favorite holiday. Why would you want to deprive me of one of the most important parts of Christmas?  
HW: Are you some sort of tree-worshipping druid who, incongruously, also embraces Christianity? Or perhaps you’ve never read the story about the Grinch, in which Christmas does not come from a store.  
MB: I cut that tree down myself. Well, with Pete’s help, but it came from nowhere near a store.  
HW: So you stole it.  
MB: I did not steal it. We got a permit from the Forest Service and took Pete’s truck out to Buffalo Creek. Which, incidentally, we should do this year; it’s nice there. We might even end up on that hour-long walk you think we should take.  
HW: And instead, you took it with Pete. In fact you take most of your walks with Pete.  
MB: If you want to join Campus Security, by all means do that, and we can walk around together all the time. But I’m pretty sure you like the job you have. And besides, if you jumped ship, so would Claudia, and if she did, so would her friend Steve, and then we’d have this huge clump of weirdos running around trying to save the world or something.  
HW: We could be a special task force.  
MB: And your special tasks would be…?  
HW: As you suggested: saving the world.  
MB: One intoxicated undergraduate at a time.

_How often do you get your hair cut? Where do you go? Have you ever had a really bad haircut experience?_  
MB: You put this one in on purpose too. Because you want to think about Hayley Atwell’s hair some more.  
HW: You have been holding the iPad this entire time. How could I possibly have inserted any question at all since my Hayley Atwell answer?  
MB: You _knew_ you were going to talk about touching her hair. You _planned_ it.  
HW: That makes no sense at all, particularly given that this question is prompting me to think about _my_ hair—which, incidentally, I’ve had cut in essentially the same way, at approximately six-week intervals, my entire life. At present, I go to a very nice young woman at a salon near campus, and aside from an unfortunate experiment with heavy bangs when I was fourteen, it’s all been fairly smooth.  
MB: That’s an appropriate word, in the context of your hair. Mine, on the other hand…  
HW: Now that I think of it, I’ve never heard you mention a haircut.  
MB: I go every couple of months? Every few months? If I see a place and have time. I once went half a year without even realizing I hadn’t had anything done to it.   
HW: It must have been enormous at that point.  
MB: I pulled it back every day. I really had no idea.  
HW: But maintenance alone.  
MB: Having beautiful glossy hair with no split ends was really not my primary concern at that point in my life. Protecting the President was.  
HW: If I were the President, I would want those jumping in front of bullets meant for me to look their best.  
MB: I think it’s more important for them to jump fast enough.  
HW: In fact, if I were the President and you were assigned to jump in front of bullets meant for me, I would have you reassigned elsewhere.  
MB: I can jump fast enough!  
HW: I don’t doubt that you can, and that’s the problem. I’d rather be the one jumping in front of you.  
MB: I don’t think that’s going to improve the situation, to be honest.  
HW: Do you think I can’t jump quickly enough to save you?  
MB: What I think is that you taking a bullet for me isn’t really preferable to me taking a bullet for you. Particularly given Christina.  
C: Thanks for thinking of me. But I’m pretty sure Mom can’t be President, anyway.  
HW: Aha! So I’d have to be the one jumping after all.  
MB: Nobody is jumping anywhere.  
HW: I thought I was jumping out of the airplane in order to gamble at the Bellagio.  
MB: I thought you said you don’t like gambling.  
HW: It’s quite a large gamble to jump in front of a bullet, but for you, Madam President… wait. How on earth did we start talking about jumping in front of bullets and electing you President? What was the original question?  
MB: Haircuts.  
HW: We are extremely poor at staying on topic.

_Did you have a class pet when you were in elementary school? Do you remember the pet’s name?_  
MB: The only animals I remember from school are the ones we had to dissect in biology.  
HW: That’s certainly a cheery memory of school days.  
MB: My sister refused to do it, when she got to ninth-grade biology. It was the most impressive thing she ever did in school.   
HW: That seems a nasty thing to say.  
MB: No, I’m not saying she wasn’t smart; I’m saying it was _that big a deal_. She was threatened with expulsion, and the school board got involved, and I thought my father was going to lose his mind. He was on her side philosophically, but he was worried about losing customers. Because when you think about it, people who like old books aren’t always the most progressive when it comes to education.  
HW: What happened?  
MB: She won. She won _handily_. Ultimately just blew past everybody in her way. Tracy can be almost as relentless as you, when she puts her mind to it.  
HW: No wonder you handle me so well. You’ve had practice.  
MB: She didn’t really direct it at me all that much, thank god. But thanks to her, most kids in Colorado Springs have to be offered alternatives. And I bet even Christina’s eventual bio teacher in Denver’s going to think twice if Christina says she’d rather study frog anatomy using computer models instead.  
C: I’m actually going to thank her. Who wouldn’t rather use a computer model? Of anything?  
MB: Well, maybe not of anything. I wouldn’t rather use a computer model of skiing than actually skiing.  
C: I would. No injuries.  
MB: See, but skiing’s all about risk and reward.  
C: I don’t think the reward is worth the risk of a broken leg.  
MB: You’ll change your mind after your first black diamond run.  
C: If I don’t break my leg on it.  
MB: We’re working you up to it. You’ll be on blue squares next season, no problem. I’m keeping your mom on green for a couple more years, though, because she’s got herself convinced she’s ready for the Olympics. This despite the fact that she fell down on every single run last time.  
HW: There was a small rodent of some sort.  
MB: What? _That’s_ your excuse?  
HW: No, it’s a response to the actual question. About class pets. I’m trying to keep us on topic.  
MB: You just don’t want me talking about how truly awful you are on skis.  
HW: I remember there being a small rodent in a cage. I was terrified of it.  
MB: The cage or the rodent?  
HW: Not funny. Although possibly both; I never went close enough to find out.  
MB: Are you still afraid of cages and rodents?  
HW: Not the idea of them. Fortunately, I’ve been spared the reality. Of rodents.  
MB: I’m trying to imagine you as one of those people who screams at the sight of a mouse. It’s really difficult, because I really can’t picture you screaming…   
HW: Oh, how you will regret having uttered those words.  
MB: Yeah, okay, as soon as they left my mouth, I realized. You win this one. Completely and totally.

_Do you think left-handed people are more creative than right-handed people?_  
HW: No, not intrinsically, but I think sometimes they’re forced to be. Charles certainly was, coming up with solutions for everything being situated the wrong way.   
MB: I didn’t know Charles is left-handed.  
HW: He despaired about it at first, then developed a great admiration for Paul McCartney.  
MB: That’s sweet. How do you Wellses manage to be so sweet and so… I don’t know what to call it, so _Wells_ , maybe… at the same time?  
HW: We are a complex people.  
MB: That is the absolute truth.  
HW: I doubt that Berings are known for their simplicity.  
MB: I am an open book.  
HW: An open, unfinished book, the happy ending of which—  
MB: Let it go.  
HW: No.

_What is the last concert you saw? How many of that band’s albums do you own? Had you seen them before? Where?_  
MB: Pete made me go with him to see Def Leppard and Kiss. I own one Def Leppard album, and that’s because a roommate left it behind when she moved out of the apartment. I had not seen them before, and I probably won’t see them again, even though Pete was right about how I’d have a better time than I thought I would. Helped that I got rip-snorting drunk—it’s amazing how good everything sounds when you’re bombed out of your mind. Plus I might’ve been high, contact-wise, even though I had no idea it would be such a pothead crowd.   
HW: You are… full of surprises.  
MB: So was the audience at that concert. Anyway, that’s good, right? If I can surprise you. I don’t want you to get bored with me, even though I’m obviously pretty boring.  
HW: That is so very untrue, as I’ve expressed in the past, that I can’t think of a new response. Other than to say “that is so very untrue.”  
MB: Well, anyway, I’m sure your concert experience will have been much more exciting.  
HW: I don’t think I want to tell you. I think I’d rather wait until we get home, then go to the symphony, and then I’ll tell you that the last concert I saw was the symphony. Playing something symphonic.  
MB: As opposed to your actual answer, which is…  
HW: No, honestly.  
MB: Honestly, now you really have to tell me.  
HW: Fine. Justin Bieber. Are you happy now.  
MB: I don’t see how I can ever be happy again. Alternatively, maybe I’ll always be happy, because I’ll just laugh, constantly, for the rest of my life.  
HW: Wonderful.  
MB: I’m assuming this was Christina’s fault.  
HW: No, Myka. I heard “Boyfriend” on the radio and said to myself “I must see that young man in concert come hell or high water.”  
MB: I would think that seeing that young man in concert would actually represent some combination of hell and high water… but what do I know; I’m probably still smoked from the Kiss concert.  
C: I don’t like him anymore. It was a phase.  
MB: That’s a good sign. I mean, full disclosure, I liked New Kids on the Block. Also a phase.  
HW: Bros.  
MB: Bross?  
HW: Yes, pronounced that way, but spelled B, R, O, S. Lesser teen idols in Britain. I carried their cassette tapes with me everywhere, because Charles threatened to smash them.  
C: This is disturbing.  
MB: Is it, Belieber? Is it really? I think this is a case of like mother, like daughter.  
HW: And yet like you as well, given New Kids on the Block, which does raise the “disturbing” ante.  
MB: Let’s just concede that we’ve all at certain times succumbed to faces and voices that were pretty. Well, more or less pretty; I don’t know about your bross guys.  
HW: At the time, I thought they were pretty. I should try to find out how they’ve aged.  
MB: No, you shouldn’t. You should let them stay young and pretty. If you can, that is. I really wish Donnie Wahlberg weren’t on TV these days.  
HW: Is that why you so rarely watch television? To avoid running into your imaginary ex-boyfriend?  
MB: Wouldn’t he be my ex–imaginary boyfriend?  
HW: He isn’t ex-imaginary.  
MB: No, no, I meant the “ex” part to cover all of “imaginary boyfriend.”  
HW: In that case, I think—  
C: This is why I never want to have friends over.

_Do you subscribe to any magazines? Which ones? What have you subscribed to in the past?_  
HW: _The Economist_. I told you that my mother’s friend became a journalist—he was their international editor for some time.  
MB: Do I subscribe to anything now? I don’t think I do. And never anything like _The Economist_. I used to read a couple of law enforcement magazines, some criminal justice things… but I got tired of having so much excess paper around.  
HW: That sounds strange, coming from you. Given the books.  
MB: I hadn’t thought about it that way; I guess it does sound strange. But they just piled up. And there’s no need to archive anything for yourself anymore, now that everything’s online… when I was a teenager, I did have a years-long run of _The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction_ on my bookshelf. For obvious reasons.  
HW: I had a nature magazine of some sort when I was very young. And when I was a bit older I would buy teen magazines, I confess it. They were insipidly written, I knew that even then, but they had posters.  
MB: I wasn’t into those.  
HW: Despite your fondness for New Kids on the Block?  
MB: Despite my fondness. I don’t think my dad would have allowed them in the house, anyway.  
HW: If the American versions were anything like ours, that is no great loss.  
MB: Yeah. On the list of things I didn’t like about my childhood, my being deprived of _Tiger Beat_ isn’t all that high. In fact it’s probably not even there. If anybody had tried to take away F &SF, though… different story. I think my mom still has those in a box somewhere.  
HW: We should retrieve them when we visit again.  
MB: So I can relive my geekdom? No thanks, that’s okay.  
HW: No, because what will happen is that you’ll become nostalgic, and it will be adorable.  
MB: Adorable?  
HW: Don’t argue.  
MB: It’s true that I’ve found that pretty futile.

_Were you ever in a school play? What was your role? What was the plot of the play? Did anything funny ever happen when you were on stage?_  
MB: I bet you were in all the school plays. I bet you were the _lead_ in all the school plays. Right?  
HW: I was in one school play. We put on the Dick Whittington panto, and I was Fairy BowBells.   
MB: I don’t know what that means, and I’m having a hard time believing that you just said it out loud. If you did, though—if I wasn’t having an aural hallucination—I swear to god there had better be pictures. Because talk about adorable.  
C: There’s a video.  
MB: I may die of happiness. Right here on this plane.  
C: Not if you have to watch the whole thing.  
MB: Why’d you have to watch the whole thing?  
C: Mom made me. She was all “and there’s my friend Gerald! and look, it’s Juliet!” And then everything was a story about how much fun this part was, or what went wrong with that scenery. It was the most boring.  
MB: It doesn’t sound that bad.  
C: Have you ever seen a panto?  
MB: No. Honestly I don’t even really know what it is.  
C: Pray that you never find out.  
HW: That is part of your cultural heritage, my darling offspring.  
C: Wow. That’s just… scary.  
MB: Take it easy. So’s Shakespeare.  
HW: I was never in anything Shakespearean.  
MB: Poor you. Your sad little stage career. Just Fairy Bowlegs.  
HW: BowBells!  
MB: Okay, I’ll concede the point: you’re a lot of things, but bowlegged isn’t one of them. That would’ve been terrible casting.  
HW: Did I win this one? I’m not sure I remember what winning feels like. Wait, you didn’t say anything about being in a play.  
MB: I thought it wasn’t about winning. And I wasn’t in a play.  
HW: Not even a Christmas pageant?  
MB: Okay, in elementary school. But that wasn’t really a play; it was just standing there on stage as a… no, I don’t think I want to tell you.  
HW: If history is any guide, you _will_ tell me. Get it over with.  
MB: Fine. I was a potato.  
HW: In a Christmas pageant?  
MB: No, we don’t do those in school. It was a play-like thing about Colorado. I was in the part about agriculture. We grow potatoes, so somebody had to be a potato.  
HW: A potato.  
MB: I’d hoped I’d get picked to be the sunflower, but no. The girl who was wheat, I remember, her parents made her a really cool costume. It had a real “amber waves of grain” feel to it.  
HW: And your costume?  
MB: Potatoes are not the most attractive vegetables to start out with. My mom painted a Hefty bag light brown and filled it up with me and crumpled newspaper.  
HW: Please tell me there’s a picture of _that_.  
MB: If there is, I’ve blocked it out of my mind. There’s definitely no video though, so. Small favors.  
C: I want to see you as a potato, Myka.  
MB: Okay. For you, I’ll ask my mom if she can find a photo.  
HW: For Christina and not for me?  
MB: I might let you have a peek. But there’ll be consequences if you laugh.  
C: What if I laugh?  
MB: You can laugh.  
HW: I don’t like these double standards.  
MB: I don’t like you laughing at me.  
HW: It’s affectionate.  
MB: It’s really not.  
C: Are we there yet?

Much later, as a tall woman, a somewhat shorter woman, and a ten-year-old are standing in yet another seemingly interminable line, waiting for another semi-rewarding ride, the following exchange ensues:  
HW: Why exactly did I want to do this?  
MB: Because it’s really, really American. Like me. And I guess you like to do things that are really, really American.  
HW: You delight me.  
MB: You pretty much delight me too.  
HW: Does this mean you’ll consider giving me something other than Tic Tacs as an anniversary gift?  
MB: You win. How about I write that happy ending for you?  
HW: I think that’s really more for your benefit than mine.  
MB: Maybe. But will it beat a goldfish?  
HW: Possibly. Don’t tell Charles.  
MB: Christina. Skype your uncle right now, and I’ll buy _you_ a goldfish.  
C: I told you, I don’t want a fish.  
MB: Well, I’m not buying you a cat.  
C: Then I’m not Skyping Uncle Charles.  
HW: And thus I win again.  
MB: I’ve heard that that’s all that matters.  
HW: Perhaps not _all_.   
MB: That reminds me… what do you think would’ve happened if we’d answered those questions first, those small-talk questions, instead?  
HW: I’d like to think we would have ended up here in any case.  
MB: You mean here, at Disneyland? Or just here, together?  
HW: Yes to both. Here, together, you, me, and Christina, at Disneyland.  
MB: I’d like to think so too.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When this was originally posted on tumblr, there was a gifset going around that included Myka choking HG in "For the Team." So my original tumblr tags went something like: what I always used to notice in the choking scene, (other than the obvious), was how far back JK holds the Tesla, which always made me wonder if in a previous take she had maybe whacked JM in the face with it, and in a related story, I am unsatisfied with the bloopers and deleted scenes we were given, I want all the raw footage dammit, the gems that could be mined!, all those possible elephants!, (h/t Errol Morris)


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